Bleu Foncé

Black plain t-shirt, black sweats, black socks on a black man, standing on the edge of a balcony. Ahead of him is the West Bay Tower. The lights shine on his face, making him stand out in the cloak of darkness that has engulfed him. Wanderers pass by and look up to see a man in his Twenties look as though he’s lived a whole lifetime. 

He continues to stare into the night, his eyes fixated on any moving object, sometimes making contact with those who pass—looking for something…something to feel. 

He rubbed his tired eyes; the streetlight pierced into them. The city tends to leave you feeling exhausted; the city tends to hurt. And it hasn’t been made easier by the way he was being worked. 

Every day felt the same, like they wanted something from him; an expectation, quietly draining part of his humanity. He was slowly withering away. And today, today he felt much worse. 

*His phone vibrates* 

He let out a deep breath. His target list for the month was in. 

“When is this gonna end?” he muttered to himself. 

He looks down at his list, 3 names. 

Todd Baker

Todd had missed Charlene’s violin performance at the Dome today, again. She was going to divorce him eventually; he knew that, but how could he tell her? How could he tell her that he’s doing it for them, for the kids? Todd looks at his watch; it's half past 9. Thirty more minutes before his driver comes in. The living room door opens, then bangs shut. Todd rushes to the living room in nothing but his singlet and boxers. 

He shouts Charlene’s name, but no response. He starts to walk slowly, clutching his hoisted gun at his waistline. He stealthily walks towards the kitchen, hears the stove, stands up straight and immediately puts the gun away. 

“Charlene!” 

“Fuck off, Todd.” 

“Charlene, please.” 

“Twice in the last month, and you missed them both. How could you?” 

“Charlene, please. I had business” 

“Business? It’s always business with you, and look at how we live. Three kids. Can barely put food on the table. We’re living on stamps” 

“Charlene, please, the kids are sleeping. Things are gonna get better, I promise.” 

“I told you I wanted a job, but you said no, you’ll handle shit and I should follow my dreams. Where has that got us, huh?. I barely get any people coming to see me play, and you’ll think that your husband of seven fucking years would show up, and he never does. He never fucking does.” she says, her eyes tearing, but she doesn’t cry. 

“Charlene, please. You’re breaking my heart.” 

“Fuck your heart.” 

Todd checks the clock on the wall. He needs to get ready to go. He kisses Charlene on the cheek and heads back to the room to change. He stands in front of the mirror, his white face pale, eyes baggy, and his hair messy. 

A failure. he is a failure. 

…. 

He sat waiting in the car. He’d been monitoring Todd for days and knew the bosses had asked to meet them around 10:30 pm. He left at 10 pm, so he got there earlier, as a sign of respect. Todd was a low-level soldier for the Cambioso Family. Six murders and multiple rackets. Lived with his children and wife Charlene, so he knew going into the house as a start was not an option. Hence, the driver charade. The real Cambioso driver was at home playing poker with his friends. 

… 

Todd walks into the car. 

“Hey. Where’s Christopher?” No response. 

Doesn’t talk much then. 

Maybe he got whacked. 

Regardless, it was none of his business. 

… 

He stepped out of the car as if he had forgotten something. His hands already gloved, walked to the passenger side and shot 6 times through the window into his head, broke what was left of the window, removed Todd’s wallet, took out the cash and placed it in his pocket. He went to Todd’s home, knocked on the door and out came the beautiful Charlene. 

Two shots clean into her head. 

He walked to the children’s room, sat on the floor, exhausted. Not necessarily from the killing; he just felt fatigued. The boys sharing one bed and the girl on her own, he walked towards the bed, looked at her; she looked so much like Annie. 

My Annie… 

He took a pillow from under her and covered her face, pressing downward until her chest stopped moving. He looked up and saw one of the boys awake; they made eye contact. 

The child started screaming; he fired 3 shots through his mouth and chest and fired 3 shots to the other kid, who was also woken up but looked confused. He walked out of the house, got into his black Honda Civic and drove off to his next target. 

Marie Vulkasov. 

Marie had just gotten back from the clinic. A 16-hour shift ran entirely on caffeine. She hadn’t seen the sun in ages, and tonight was no different. Don Marco Cambioso had brought a little girl to her house yesterday. An asthma patient with extremely tight alveoli, she died on the bed with her little teddy bear. She still remembered what it was like seeing her life leave her eyes because she did not have a respirator in their possession. She kept arguing that she needed to go to the hospital, but they kept insisting treatment happened indoors. 

These guys, they don’t listen.

She headed to her bedroom and took the phone on her bedside. Her father was the only one she could talk to about all this. He used to be a top guy in the family, now semi-retired and more concerned about his goat farm. She never liked going there; the stench from goats was not for her nose; she just couldn’t stand them. 

“Hello, papa.” 

“Hello, my little gem. How are you?” 

“I’m good. You won’t believe who I saw at the hospital today. John Crews”

 “John fucking Crews? Like the movie star John Crews?” 

“Yeah Dad.” 

“Well did you tell him your old man is a big fan?” 

“I didn’t get the chance, Dad; I was prepping for surgery.” 

“What good are you, Marie!” he said hysterically. 

She let out a little laugh. 

“I heard he fractured a bone during a stunt, so maybe he’ll still be around tomorrow.”

 “Ah, speaking of tomorrow. Are you still gonna come to the farm?” 

“Yes, Papa.” 

“I know you don’t like the smell, but little Mark has missed his aunt.” 

“Oh, Dad. I’m gonna be there, I promise.” 

“Okay, okay. I look forward to seeing you, my little gem. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Dad.” 

*Doorbell rings* 

Marie told her dad to hold, and went to get the door. Who could it be at this time of the night? 

… 

Sitting in his car, he stared at the beautiful peach coloured home in the nature-enclosed suburb.  The suburb nights were his favourite nights. The suburb looked so much better in the night because the lights glowed so softly and gave the houses some sense of warmth.

 Marie Vulkasov. Doctor. No nuclear family. Was married but divorced a few months ago. Her father was Paulie Fontaine. She was named after her mother, apparently. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was here to take out Marie. All he knew was he was supposed to do it. He went to the front door and rang the doorbell. 

… 

Marie opened the door. 

“Hello. Can I help you?” 

“ Yeah. I’m looking for Marie Vulkasov.” 

“You’re talking to her.” 

“I have a package from Mr Cambioso. A gift.” 

“A gift? Well, where is it?” 

“It’s quite heavy, I'll need some help carrying it.” 

“Erm, sure. Are you sure you’re not here to kill me?” she said while laughing nervously 

“Well why would I do that?” 

“I mean, his daughter died a day ago in my home, and he blamed me for it.” 

“Oh really? I didn’t know that. I was told she had an asthma attack.” 

“Oh she did, but it was fatal, and I couldn't do anything to help because they wouldn’t let me take her to the hospital so we could use a respirator.” 

“Why didn’t he let you?” 

“Paranoia. His wife died in the hospital at the hand of some doctors. Guess he doesn’t trust it, I don't know. Anyway, you said you needed some help?” 

“Yeah. It’s in the car.” 

“What’s your name by the way?” 

“My name?” 

“Yeah” 

“Why do you need my name?” 

Marie paused for a moment. 

At this point, they were in her lawn going towards the car.

Marie looked at him. Up and down. Her heart started pounding. She ran towards her house. He chased after her. She went into the kitchen to grab a knife, he got to her before she could get to the drawer, held her by the wrist and tossed her onto the fridge. 

… 

He looked her in the eyes, she was in pain and terrified. He grabbed her neck, strangled her until her eyes began to fill with blood. She was struggling, trying to get out of the grip, but it was all in vain. Every strain was a waste of breath. Her face got paler and lifeless. Her eyes shot red as the seconds passed, her hands loosening from his wrist. She tried to talk, but the words attempting to leave her mouth just sounded like a gasp for air. He loosened his grip, she managed to mutter, with barely any air left in her lungs, “You’re the fucking devil”. 

He tightened his grip and watched as her eyes rolled back into her head as her grip loosened over his wrists. 

He started walking around the house, looking at pictures of her with her father on some kind of farm. He went into the room and kept hearing, 

“Marie. Marie, are you there?” 

Her father was still on the phone, he picked up the phone and placed it back. The call cut. He went back to his car, got some gasoline from his trunk, went back into the house, carried her body to her bathroom, and laid her in the tub. 

He looked in the mirror, his eyes, bloodshot and tired. He turned his attention back on her, poured out gasoline over Marie, took out his lighter, lit her body on fire and watched as her body burned. 

He pulled out a cigarette and crouched down, lighting it with the flames licking from the burning body. He stood right under the bulb in the dimly lit bathroom, from the window outside to his left, if you peeped through, you would see a man with a burning cigarette, bathed by the dim light from the dangling bulb, staring down, with glowing light hitting his face and sweat running into his eyes. 

… 

After the first two kills, he drove to a nearby bar with a backpack of clothes to change into. He swapped his all-black outfit for a dark blue hoodie and black sweatpants.

He took off his leather gloves, a 200 dollar leather gloves, and placed them in his pocket. He should’ve burned them along with Marie, but he lost focus. He got into the bar and took a seat at the edge of the table. A Johnny Walker on the rocks is what he usually ordered, but not today.  Diet Coke, iced, is what he went for. Across the table was a woman he had never seen in the bar. Short, white, with the most luscious hair and gorgeous eyes he had ever seen. He stared bluntly at her. They locked eyes, and for a moment, it seemed like he was at peace; his mind wasn’t speeding through a million thoughts. He was just there. Present. Feeling something. 

He stood up and sat right beside her, 

“Hey”, he said to her, with a smile plastered on his face. 

“Hey”, she responded 

“You come here often?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“From around here?” he asked 

“I came to visit my mother. She’s a little sick” 

“Oh, what’s wrong with her?” 

“Cancer. Breast Cancer.” 

“Wow. She’s a strong, strong woman.” 

“You come here often?” 

“Yes, every Friday night after my job”, he answered almost with eagerness

“Oh, that’s nice. What do you do?” 

“You’re gonna laugh.” 

“No I'm not. I respect every working person.” 

“I own a cleaning service.” 

“That’s nice. That's really nice.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a nurse. I’m Jennie, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jennie.” 

“You’re not gonna tell me yours?” she said with the biggest smile on her face.

He hesitated for a second. That was a wall coming down, sharing a part of himself that he quite frankly never extends to anyone. It was like opening a window for someone to see through your life. 

“Francis.” 

“That’s the most basic name I have ever heard” 

“Ha. You got somewhere to be?” He asked

“No, why?” 

“Wanna come over to mine? I live not to far from here.” 

“Sure.” 

… 

They got to his home 10 minutes after they left the bar. Stood in his balcony, looking over the West Bay Area. 

“This is a beautiful view, Francis. I could stand here all day.” 

“Do so, please. Stand here with me all night.” 

“It’s an empty home you have here. Do you not get lonely?” 

“Lonely? I am on my own, but I am not lonely, no. You?” 

“Same.” 

Francis checks his watch. It was getting late, and he hadn’t planned his last hit yet. A hit he was hesitant on, a grim look sat on his face as he lifted his head to view the city again. Jennie saw the look on his face. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I just have some work to do with someone. A work thing.” 

“That's what has got you looking like the Grim Reaper?” she said laughing. “It’s serious. It’s my last client for the month. But I don't wanna do it.” 

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to.” 

“So don’t. It’s your company, you don’t have to do it.”

Francis looked at her. Her eyes were glowing with so much pride and beauty. He couldn’t look away. 

“Yeah, but my investors…they won’t be happy.” 

“So sell the company if they want it so much and move away or something.”

 “I’ve always wanted to go to Greece. I’ve always wanted to live there. It’s a beautiful city.” 

“So do it?” 

“You wanna come along, Jennie? With me, to Greece.” 

“My mother is in the hospital.” 

“No, don’t worry. I’ll leave first, then you can come after. Come with me. Please,” he said, almost begging. 

“We just met, Francis. I don’t know what to say. 

“These last few hours have been the most surreal hours of my life. Every word I speak tonight is me not reasoning a single bit. You have me on a leash. I feel again, standing next to you.” 

“Francis…” 

“Come with me to Greece.” 

She looked into his eyes, and from that moment on she understood what was happening. He seemed almost desperate, like he was reaching out for something. Something she couldn’t make out. 

… 

A way out. 

He’s looking for a way out, and he sees one through her. It’s random and impulsive, but it's the most human thing he’s done in years, why fight it?

“It's one last job?” 

“Yeah, and you’ll never have to worry about money. Ever.” 

“This is a huge risk for me, Francis.” 

Francis walks towards her and holds her face in his palms. 

“Tell me you don’t feel what I’m feeling”

“I do” 

“So come with me.” 

“Okay, Francis. Okay.” 

They lean in towards each other and share a deep kiss. 

…. 

Francis rushed towards his car, not with a smile on his face, just a neutral look. He was feeling something for the first time in years, and he was not going to let it walk out on him. He drove to the nearest landline and called his brother, 

“Terry, are you home?” he says in a panicky voice. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Is Sharon with you?” 

“Yeah, she’s with the kids.” 

“Okay man, I’m coming over. “ 

“Sure man, no problem. Are you okay?” 

He didn’t respond

Francis drove into the night, down to the East Bay Area. 

Engulfed by the dim lights lighting up the road. 

The city feels blue, slow and silent. His hands start to shake on the steering wheel. 

Tears roll down his eyes. 

The first two he tried to ground in some sort of reasoning, and Jennie, well, Jennie made him forget he had to even do this one, but now, now he has to. There’s no ignoring this anymore. He gets rid of the last target, and that’s it. 

“I’ll be free”, he muttered to himself. 

Francis wept. 

His car, now completely bathed in the blue night.